


Shifting Tides

by Flightlessdreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightlessdreams/pseuds/Flightlessdreams
Summary: You are a student at Hogwarts (18) and have just rescued multiple first years from the clutches of 4 Slytherins, sustaining major wounds. The dark and brooding Potions Master heals you, and something in him shifts.Perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye.
Relationships: Severus Snape & Reader, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape/Reader, Severus Snape/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	1. Bloody Beautiful

You feel sharp heat cut into your skin as you collapse onto one knee, vision blurring. Your eyes feel as though they’re melting out of your skull. The smell of blood fills your nostrils as you attempt to aim your wand at the attacker.  
“Protego!” You say hoarsely as your knees go weak. You hear a thud on the floor. With a sense of relief, you fall backwards, hand sliding off the wall as blood pools around you.  
If this is death, then so be it.  
The floor is warm now, a pleasant change from the cold marble. The room is spinning, with flashes of gold and green fading into black.  
Footsteps echo in the hallway as you take a deep shuddering breath.  
Suddenly the door bursts open and you see a dark figure out of the corner of your eye.  
You open your mouth as you slowly tilt your head, but no words come. You shake your head and squint your eyes, ready to try again.  
“Don’t speak.” A pair of large, stark white hands move to your face and one cradles the back of your head. Then you hear spells you’ve never heard before. You open your eyes to see Snape hovering over you, eyes hard and glimmering, a look of pure anger on his pale face.  
You succumb to the calmness that has begun washing over you, and dream of death. 

The clock chimes 3 and your eyes fly open. Is it day or night? Why does it smell...damp? Why does one eye feel like there’s tape on it?  
Your hands do a brush of your surroundings. You seem to be on a couch, laying lengthwise. You breathe in sharply and steady yourself on a cushion, slowly straightening up. You look around, head pounding.  
The walls are dark grey, slightly illuminated by sconces making unique shadows on the ceiling.  
A single desk sits a few feet away from you, covered in old candles and worn out parchment. Empty cauldrons sit in a small area in the back of the room, in front of a large bookshelf. Is this Snapes office? Nobody else seems to be here.  
You groan as you move your legs down to the floor. Each movement feels like a new knife in your flesh.  
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” You here a low voice from the doorway and almost kink your neck looking around.  
“Professor!” You inhale sharply. “How long have you been there?”  
Snape sweeps around you to sit down at his desk.  
“I have just come from the hospital wing. And the headmasters office.” He says, shuffling some parchment. “Now.” His eyes narrow. “Please explain what you were doing in the Slytherin prefect bathroom, bleeding out, at midnight on a Monday.” His dark eyes are boring into your skull. You swallow, feeling intimidated. Has he always looked so good?  
“I was leaving the library when I saw several Slytherins push 1st years into that bathroom.” You say quietly.  
“And you didn’t think it would be wise to tell a teacher?” He looks positively furious.  
“I guess I thought I could handle it.” You look down at the floor. “I was going to find a teacher when I heard screams so I ran to investigate. I honestly didn’t plan this, sir.”  
Snape stares at you for a long minute, then gets up and walks over to you.  
“Put this,” he says, holding out a small vial, “on your cuts every 4 hours. I dare say most will heal without issues.”  
You take the vial, noticing a deep cut on your hand. You pause, pushing a sleeve over it.  
“What spell could do this?” You ask, feeling genuinely curious. You face is stinging, making your eyes water Your hand goes to your face as you feel the outline of a cut, stretching from your eyebrow to your cheek.  
“A dark magic spell. Something that isn’t...well known.” He finishes quietly. He walks back over to his desk and sits down.  
“You are dismissed from class for the day. If I see you wandering the halls again past curfew, it will be automatic detention. For a month. Now please lay down as I don’t need to be cleaning blood off this floor.”  
You clear your throat and hoarsely reply “understood”, before plopping back on the pillow. Your head has gotten so dizzy you feel nauseous. What does this mean for the upcoming Quidditch match?  
“Expect physical set backs for at least a month.” Its as though Snape just read your mind.  
You groan aloud and curse under your breath.  
“How much longer do I need to be here?” You ask, dreading the response. You hated the fact that he’s seen you this way, vulnerable and beat up.  
“Madame Pomfrey will be by in the next hour to collect you, as a bed has freed up.” You hear Snapes voice from the other side of the room.  
You lay quietly for a minute before taking a deep breath.  
“What’s going to happen with Dalton?” You ask, feeling hot prickles of anger on the back of your neck.  
“The Headmaster will be dealing with him.” Snape replies in any icy tone.  
“I’m...sorry sir, I know he was one of your best students.” You say in a muted voice.  
You hear Snape put his quill down.  
“You have nothing to apologize for. Other than breaking curfew. Please rest, quietly” he emphasizes quietly with a hiss, “as enough have lost sleep tonight and I have to finish grading these.”  
You grumble back “yes sir” and close your eyes.  
Madame Pomfrey comes to collect you as the clock strikes 4, and you stumble to the hospital wing, clumsily thanking Snape on the way out.

Snape watches you leave, feeling a wave of relief. Having a student, a female student nonetheless, in his office that late at night made him physically uncomfortable. Not to mention him seeing most of you on the count of your clothes having been torn to shreds, an image that has been difficult to remove from his head. You looked beautiful, even when surrounded by blood. He shakes his head and breathes out slowly, rubbing his temples.  
He can’t deny being impressed with you, after tonight. Dueling 4 Slytherins simultaneously is no easy feat. His mind turns to Dalton, the boy responsible for your bloody mess, feeling anger bubble in his chest. Dumbledore was to be back tomorrow, and he hoped expulsion was on the docket for the guilty.  
His train of thought is interrupted by Madame Pomfrey, looking to borrow healing herbs as the hospital wing has run out. Snape finds himself wanting to ask about you, but he bites his tongue, taking comfort in the fact that his feelings had probably arose due to the intensity of the night.  
He gives up on sleep after 4:30 AM, focusing all his energy on reorganizing his stores, and doing what he can to push you far out of his mind.


	2. Deviant Dreams

You wake up with a throbbing head and little memory of the night before.  
You look around the hospital wing, locating the clock. 10 AM. Snow has begun melting outside the windows, a warm reminder that spring was coming.  
You stretch, gasping as pain runs down your entire body.  
Could be worse, you think, debating whether or not to get out of bed. Deciding on the former, you sit up gingerly and start sliding your legs off the bed.  
“Now what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” You freeze as you hear a motherly voice coming from the office window.  
You grit your teeth.  
“I feel great, honestly.” You say loudly as Madame Pomfrey emerges from her office.  
“That’s for me to decide.” She says sternly, walking up to you and putting the back of her palm on your forehead.  
“You’re healing up nicely, we were lucky Professor Snape had extra herbs for the healing potion. That was some spell that hit you, haven’t seen anything like it before.”  
You blink at her as memories of last night flood your head.  
Snape finding you. Healing you. Seeing your.... pretty much everything.  
Oh no. Oh no no no.  
You hang your head, looking down at the floor, embarrassment washing over you. You run your hands down your robes just to be sure they’re not still torn.  
Madame Pomfrey gently puts her hand on yours.  
“You’re alright, dear. It was a close call but you’ll be fine.”  
You wait for her to finish her vital check.  
“When can I go to my dormitory? I’ll stay out of trouble, I promise.”  
Madame Pomfrey sighs and hands you a small bottle of light blue liquid.  
“You really need to eat something but I suppose you’re free to go, as long as you promise to get plenty of rest today.” She looks at you sternly. “Now the cuts will take some time to heal, no Quidditch for several weeks, and you’ll need to come back in a few days for me to check the wounds.”  
You force a smile, trying not to tear up as the cut on your face smarts.  
“Thank you. Rest is my top priority.” 

You leave the hospital wing half an hour later, limping slightly.  
You feel a sense of relief, hobbling past the deserted Great Hall, that everyone is currently in class.  
The Ravenclaw common room is empty and you can almost feel the goose down pillow beneath your face when the door behind you opens and Molly Price, the Ravenclaw prefect, runs in, panting.  
You steady yourself on a fireplace column as you wave hello.  
“Dumbledore said you’d be here,” Molly gasps , “He sent me to ask if you can go to his office this morning.”  
You blink and nod. How did he already know you’ve been discharged?  
Molly fans herself, making a circle with her hand. “Literally just ran down 8 flights of stairs.”  
You make a face, as if you’re feeling her pain. She grins.  
“Have to run to class now.”  
“Oh ok. I’ll head up in a minute.” You say awkwardly.  
Molly turns to leave.  
“Heard what happened by the way,” she says with a smile before she heads through the door, “good job beating up those Slytherins.”  
You smile back at her, wondering what else this morning had in store for you.  
You change into a black sweater and slacks, wanting to play it safe in case you started to bleed again.  
Not wanting to keep Dumbledore waiting, you start making your way to his office.  
You make it just before the bell rings, sweaty and annoyed. Climbing the stairs hurt more than you’d care to admit.  
“Lemon drop.”  
You wait patiently in the stairway until it stops moving, and step through the door.  
To your horror, you find yourself facing the three of the four Slytherins from the night before, each one of them avoiding eye contact.  
“Well shit.” You say, momentarily forgetting where you are.  
“Ah, how good of you to join us.”  
You spin around, stumbling a little. Dumbledore is standing in his library, with none other than Severus Snape. Your stomach drops.  
“Sorry, Professors.”  
Dumbledore chuckles. Snape remains hidden in the shadow, his face unreadable.  
“Quite alright, young lady. Very healthy reaction to the situation.” His eyes are twinkling.  
“Now, we won’t keep you all for long, but in light of what happened, we found it best to confront this head on.”  
You nod, side eyeing the Slytherins.  
“We want to make sure this does not happen again.” Dumbledore looks at the Slytherins, who all have their heads down.  
The tallest Slytherin, who has been standing in the very back, clears his throat.  
“I’m..sorry.” He says, avoiding your gaze.  
“Me too” echoes through the Slytherin rank.  
Your mouth tightens and you nod, glancing at Snape, who is looking right at you. Your eyes meet and you instantly break away, instead focusing on the painting of a sleeping witch near Dumbledore’s head.  
“You’re dismissed, I will see you in detention.” Snape says coldly, glaring at the Slytherins.  
Your back hugs the wall as they shuffle past you.  
Dumbledore waits for the office door to shut.  
“Now you may have noticed that Mr. Dalton was not among us just now.” Dumbledore says as he glides over to his desk. He waves his hand and the chair across from him slides out.  
You limp over to it, steadying yourself before you sit down.  
“I also see you may have left the hospital wing a bit early, my dear.”  
You smile.  
“I feel fine, just happy to be moving around.”  
Dumbledore pulls out a cookie tin and shakes it at you.  
“Oh no, thank you.”  
“Severus?”  
“I am fine, Headmaster.” You hear his low voice behind you. Your ears grow hot. Snape walks past the desk and takes a seat near Dumbledore.  
“Uh,” you say, “is it time for my punishment?”  
Snape raises an eyebrow as Dumbledore chuckles.  
“Dear girl, you did nothing wrong. We’ve all broken curfew in our days. You kept other students safe, and that’s what matters.”  
You breathe a sigh of relief, albeit a painful one.  
“What we’d like to talk to you about,” Dumbledore continues as Snape bristles in his chair, “is Mr. Daltons punishment.”  
You stare back, unsure of what to say.  
“It has come to my attention that he has been dealing with...more than a few issues at home. Now what happened is serious. And we are within our rights to expel him. However,” Dumbledore lowers his chin to peer at you over his half moon glasses, “a less severe punishment can be recommended, with your approval, of course.”  
“Oh.” You say, leaning back in your chair.  
“You can have some time to decide, we know last night was not an easy event to survive.”  
You shake your head.  
“I’m not going to hold this against him.” You look down at the floor. “I understand what struggles at home can do to someone. I’ll...stay in my lane if he stays in his.”  
The room is silent for a moment.  
Then Dumbledore clasps his hands together, smiling and Snape clears his throat.  
“I will notify the boy today.” He says, standing up to leave.  
“Wonderful.” Dumbledore says with delight.  
You also stand up, wobbling slightly.  
“Am I dismissed?” You ask, smiling at Dumbledore.  
“Of course, you need your rest.” Dumbledore gets up and puts his hand on your shoulder, walking you to the door.  
“Severus, could you please make sure Violet here gets to her dormitory safely?”  
Your back stiffens.  
“Oh I can walk, Professor.”  
Snape brushes past you, opening the door.  
You shuffle through it, catching a whiff of his scent. Cedar chips and coffee. You hold on to the railing, wanting to smash your head against the wall. You cannot be smelling the Professor who has basically seen you naked. Get a grip.  
The door gently locks behind you and you wait silently as the stairs start moving.  
Snape is standing behind you, close enough for you to feel his breath on your hair. Could this space be any smaller?  
You clear your throat.  
“Thank you for your...help yesterday.” You say, wanting nothing more than to disappear through the floor. This is a whole new level of awkward.  
The stairs mercifully stop moving.  
You look back at him, feeling your breath catch, as you are inches apart. Snape nods, avoiding your gaze, and opens the door. You hobble forward, tripping over the last step.  
He grabs you by the waist, balancing you, before letting go, making you stumble again.  
He lets out an exasperated sigh.  
“Sorry.” You mutter, wondering why the hell he’s still here.  
He holds out his arm and rolls his eyes.  
“Just hold on to me, I’d like to get there sometime today.”  
You raise your eyebrows, brushing off his comment.  
“I can handle myself, thanks.” You say coldly and continue limping down the corridor.  
Snape says nothing and continues walking, two steps behind you.  
You straighten up, attempting to look like you’re not in the worst pain of your life.  
The bell rings as you finally reach the Ravenclaw common room.  
You turn around to say thank you and bump fully into him.  
“Are you a magnet for accidents?” He says as he grabs you by the shoulders and moves you back a step. You can’t help but notice his hands linger, if only for a moment.  
“Looks like it.” You try to smile at him, but it end up grimacing. “Well, thank you...sir.”  
Snape nods and sweeps down the hallway, black robes billowing around him.  
You walk as quickly as you can to your dormitory, and drink the remainder of the Sleeping Draught you brewed last week. Knocking yourself out seems to be the highlight of the day.  
You drift into uneasy sleep, plagued by dreams of the Potions Master, dragons and bloody bathrooms. 

Snape makes it to the dungeons in time for his 4th year class to start. He’s distracted, still fuming from the news this morning. Dalton should’ve been expelled, no questions asked. He knew that boy was trouble from the moment he was sorted into his house.  
Snape rushes through his lecture, mostly listing off pages that the students need to read.  
As everyone breaks into groups to brew the potion of the day, he finds his mind wandering, and going to dangerous places.  
The way you felt in his arms, as he steadied you this morning. The way you looked, dressed in all black, the sweater highlighting your form. How pretty you face looked when you were being stubborn. His mouth tightens as a scowl forms on his face.  
Student, teacher, teacher, student, he repeats in his head. No matter your age, capabilities or looks. You are off limits.  
He checks the time, counting down the hours till the weekend. Avoiding you was priority one, which should be easy if he sticks to the dungeons.  
Now avoiding you in potions class, he thinks, is going to be more difficult, bringing about a twinge of panic.  
This year couldn’t end fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really start typing on my laptop and not my phone XD apologies for the massive paragraphs


	3. Careless Craving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a long one, folks! A joy to write. Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! ^_^

The sun filters through the curtains, warming your face as you shield your eyes from the brightness. It’s early. A strong wind blows, its quiet scream seeping through the small crack in the window. You roll onto your back, facing the tapestry and thinking of the day ahead.  
It’s Friday, which means no Potions.  
You stretch very slowly, waiting for the tsunami wave of pain to come. You’re surprised to be greeted by a muted ache, a mere ripple.  
Smiling, you sit up and feel your face. The cut has closed, leaving behind a shallow indent.  
You push back the curtains, keeping your movements quiet, and slide out of bed. All of your roommates are fast asleep, with soft grumbling snores drifting from a few of the bunks.  
You tiptoe to the dresser, making sure to avoid the creaky areas in the floor, and get dressed quickly, tugging on a dark red sweater and black slacks. You then slip through the door, being careful not to wake your roommates.  
Your legs are stiff, and you have to force yourself to slow down on the stairs as a dull throbbing begins to spread through your side. Madame Pomfrey wasn’t kidding about the recovery.  
The common room is empty, save a few bottles of sparkling cider, laying empty near the fireplace. Looks like you missed the first study group of the semester.  
Someone had left the window cracked and the glacial air sent a shiver down your spine, making you instinctively cling to your sweater.  
You walk over to the window and pull it closed, taking a moment to look out to the horizon. Dark silvery storm clouds have appeared in the sky and you could see the Womping Willow swaying in the strong wind.  
You loved stormy winter days at Hogwarts,  
as the many fireplaces would always be lit, creating the perfect cozy reading atmosphere anywhere you went.  
You make your way to the Great Hall, avoiding Peeves who looks like he’s setting a trap on the 4th floor, and find your seat at the Ravenclaw table. There are only a handful of students enjoying their breakfast and the staff table is completely empty. Something you were counting on.  
Piling you plate high with golden potatoes and crispy bacon, you pick up a deserted copy of The Daily Prophet, and skim through it.  
Large colorful advertisements are plastered all over the paper for Quidditch World Cup.  
You check the pricing for the tickets in the back of the paper, and are thrilled to see they are decently priced.  
You make a note to pick up a ticket during your next Hogsmeade trip, and read an article about the benefits of murtlap pickling. 

Students begin to filter in by 7:30, and you soon find yourself surrounded by gangly 15 year olds, all wanting details on which spells you used in the duel.  
Making up an excuse about needing to finish up a Runes essay, you duck out of the Great Hall, glancing up at the staff table before you go.  
Snape is deep in conversation with Dumbledore, who is smiling as he smothers his toast in jam. Your stomach flips when his dark eyes flicker towards you, and you hurry out of the Great Hall, careful to avoid the Slytherins gossiping by the door. One throws you a dirty look as you pass by, making you dread the day ahead. How many difficult interactions were there going to be?  
You get to Herbology early and take a seat in the very back of the greenhouse, fixed on calling as little attention to yourself as possible.  
The class goes by smoothly, save one incident in which one of your classmates almost loses a hand. Dissecting wriggly ruffpinmoolers, armed with 3 rows of sharp teeth, had proven to be a challenge.  
Your homework load piles up as the day goes by, with 2 long essay assignments being due by the following Monday. You notice you’re still getting dirty looks from the Slytherins, but nobody dares to say anything. You smile internally, wondering just how scary Snape must’ve been to silence them all like this.  
You’re mentally spent by the time you’re heading to Care of Magical Creatures, mercifully your last class of the day. Hagrid is eagerly awaiting you, a big smile shining from behind his bushy beard.  
Your mood significantly improves when Hagrid surprises the group with unicorns and happily lets you spend most of the lesson petting them.  
A cold drizzle starts to fall as Hagrid wraps up the lesson, and you’re soaking wet and winded by the time you make it back to the castle, having raced one of your friends. You take a moment to catch up with a few fellow Ravenclaws, curious about last nights study session.  
After waving goodbye, you dry yourself off and hurry to the library, wanting to get an early start on your essays. So much for a relaxing weekend. 

Snape keeps to the dungeons after breakfast, determined not to be anywhere near you. A few days, free of you, should do it for an internal reset. He is extra tough on students thanks to his foul mood, and almost makes a girl cry during 5th period. Fuming, he decides to talk a short walk before dinner.  
He finds himself walking towards the Great Hall when he sees you burst through the main doors, soaking wet, laughing. He stops in his tracks, causing a tiny first year to bump into him and drop his books.  
“Keep moving!” He snarls, as the terrified boy runs away, dropping half his belongings in the process.  
Snape rolls his eyes and turns back to you, as you chat animatedly with the other Ravenclaws. Your face is bright pink from the cold, which makes your eyes look bluer.  
His eyes go to your lips, turned up into a smile, full and glossy from the water. Your laughter echoes through the hall, and he finds himself not wanting to look away. Thunder rumbles outside as rain continues its rhythmic pounding against the rooftop.  
Snape realizes he’s staring as you wave goodbye to your friends, and scowls, causing a few 3rd years to look at him in alarm.  
He turns on his heel and sweeps back down to the dungeons, deciding that a liquid dinner and bed would be better than having to keep himself from admiring your face at dinner.  
He advises the castle elves that he will be taking all meals in his office, and settles in for a weekend full grading, brooding and being invisible. 

The rain continues through till Sunday morning, providing a soothing soundtrack to your seemingly endless to do list.  
You debate going to Hogsmeade to get your World Cup ticket, but decide against it, after it begins to hail.  
You spend the remainder of the day in library writing, feverishly and late into the night.  
Finishing all of your homework just past midnight, you collapse onto your four poster, not bothering to change into your nightlies.  
Finally facing the strange sadness in the pit of your stomach, you realize the cause for it is not seeing him, all weekend. Although you kept mostly to yourself, you were still hoping to see him in the Great Hall, but his seat was always empty.  
You let out a long sigh and roll over, shoving your face into a pillow. If he wants to be this way then fine. What were you thinking, anyway? That he’d make a move, being a teacher, just because you shared a traumatic experience? He’s a grown man and you are just a girl, leaving Hogwarts in a few months, probably to never see him again.  
The thought makes your stomach tight and your eyes well up with tears. You push the pillow around your face, hard, soaking up the moisture.  
Crying won’t fix anything, you grumble to yourself as you roll back over. You stare at the tapestry above you, waiting for sleep, which never comes. 

Monday arrives with a flurry of snowflakes covering the grounds in glistening white, which only makes your eyes hurt more. You stumble around the dorm, having had zero rest, haphazardly throwing on clothes and forgoing makeup. You groan internally at the thought of double potions, not to mention how much colder the dungeons were going to be today.  
You check your reflection before heading to breakfast, pleased to see the scars fading to a light pink. At least you have that going for you. 

The Great Hall is buzzing with palpable energy as the owls deliver the mail. You focus on drinking as much coffee as possible, and keep your eyes off of the staff table.  
After 4 cups, you grab a piece of toast, hands buzzing, and hurry to your first class, Runes.  
The class drags on, and you find yourself falling asleep within the first 15 minutes. Today was going to be torture.  
The bell rings and you make your way to your next class, bumping into everyone and everything. A headache has begun to bloom behind your eyes, and you find yourself weighing the pros and cons of skipping class to take a nap.  
You stick it out till lunch time, heading to your dorm when the bell rings, and promptly fall asleep.  
You wake up with a gasp, having dreamt of the black lake swallowing you whole, and check your watch. You slept right through your afternoon classes, and now have only 3 minutes to get to the dungeons for your last class.  
You run through the castle, cursing yourself, and skid to a stop in front of the door, making sure to smooth your hair before opening it. 

“You’re late.”  
Snape is sitting at his desk, arms crossed, as though waiting for you.  
You speed walk to your desk and sit down, sliding down in your chair.  
“5 points from Ravenclaw.”  
You chew your lip nervously.  
“Sorry, professor.”  
He sneers and points to your book.  
“Page 394.”  
You flip through your book and he continues his lecture over the Forgetfulness Potion, pausing to let everyone take notes. 

Snape avoids you during class, pretending to be busy reorganizing his desk.  
He hasn’t left the dungeons all day, mentally preparing for this class. Not seeing you all weekend had only left him feeling hollow, a feeling he certainly was used to but one that smarted just the same.  
He avoids lingering by your cauldron when doing his checks, and deducts further points when he sees you spend more time helping your desk mate than on your own potion.  
The classroom begins to fill with smoke as the hours go by.  
He finds himself bitterly trying to focus on things he dislikes about you and coming up empty. You had always been a top student, a talented one at that, and didn’t seem to have a selfish bone in your body. He had heard you wanted to be an Auror and he couldn’t help but admit that you would be perfect for that job. How similar you are to another girl from his past, he thinks, as his mind goes to a very dark place. He sits there somberly, lost in his memories, as the students huff over their cauldrons.  
With ten minutes to go till the bell, he does his last check and hands out grades. Your potion is perfect but he doesn’t say anything, vanishing it within seconds of seeing it. Your face crumples, a furious expression taking form.  
“Acceptable.” He drawls, and continues on.  
The bell rings and he breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t look up from his desk, waiting to hear the door close, and looks up when the footsteps go quiet.  
You’re standing by the door, clutching your books, looking infuriated.  
“Need something?” He asks, voice as cold as ice.  
You tighten your grip on your books, knuckles white.  
“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask.  
Snape furrows his brows as eyes flicker to the scar on your face, a feature that somehow still looks endearing on you.  
“What,” he says as he takes a pot of red ink out of his desk, “make you say that.”  
“I get taking points away for being late, but taking them for helping someone?” You respond, careful to keep your voice even.  
“You’re a 7th year, you should be focusing on making your last months here worthwhile. Not that it might make a difference,” He says, wanting for the words to hurt. It’s best you weren’t comfortable around him.  
“Furthermore, your classmate clearly did not take the time to prepare themselves before class, unlike everyone else.”  
He looks up to see your blue eyes staring back at him. Your cheeks are red and you look like you’re biting your tongue.  
“Now I have work to do, unless you need to waste more of my time?” He asks in his most authoritative voice as he goes back to grading.  
He heard you walk out, shutting the door loudly behind you.  
Snape waves his wand and locks the door. Being a dick to you certainly took a toll, and he felt incredibly bad for what he said.  
He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. You flash before his eyes, scarcely covered, smiling at him as your lips pucker. His chest floods with warmth. He lets himself enjoy the image for a moment before snapping out of it, set on finishing grading the essays over Wolfsbane.  
He takes his dinner in his office, dozing off at his desk as Monday morphs into Tuesday. 

You toss and turn all night, replaying his words in your head. How could he be so callous? The seconds tick by and you get more and more wound up. You make up your mind to confront him, damn the awkwardness. Damn him.  
He’s the one who said to make this last year count.  
You give up on sleep and move to the common room, picking up a book on Fantastic Beasts as you tiptoe past a sleeping shape on the couch.

The dark circles under your eyes began to look like bruises as Tuesday and Wednesday go by. Sleep has evaded you for nearly half a week now and you were regretting not making more Sleeping Draught. The snow has melted, leaving behind muddy grounds as Hagrid prepared the quidditch field for the first practice session of the season.  
You went by the hospital wing Thursday morning for your checkup, and were happy to get a clean bill of health. Quidditch was still off limits, forcing you to miss your teams first two practice sessions and you began counting the days down till you could fly. Being a Beater was the only outlet for many of your emotions, and you were suffering without it.  
Morning slips into afternoon as your anxiety grows. You stop by the library between class to finish up your homework, and find yourself dozing off, brain screaming for relief. 

Snape is heading to see Professor Sprout about the fern serum he needs, and decides to take the scenic way to the greenhouse. It’s a sunny, cloudless day, a warm reminder that spring is right around the corner.  
He’s passing by the library when he spots you , leaning against a column, looking like you’re about to fall asleep.  
His eyes do an involuntary sweep over your frame, pausing to admire your makeup free face. He doesn’t understand why you wear makeup in the first place.  
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” He says in a low voice, startling you. You stifle a yawn, looking around.  
“And falling asleep in the hallway.” He takes a step closer. “Breaking curfew again?”  
You hurriedly pick your bag up off the floor and brush your hair out of your face.  
“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” You flash him a coy smile, feeling your heart pound in your chest.  
He raises an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.  
“Best get your head straight before my class.” He says as he turns to walk away, “failure will not be tolerated.”  
You roll your eyes and head to your class, trying not to think about how he good he looks today.  
You hex your way through Charms, receiving compliments from Flitwick on your ability to properly control the spell.  
You stop to talk to him about Auror training after class, as he has promised to teach several of the basics prior to the year ending. You’re delighted to learn that he’s agreed to start an Auror study group, and are busy signing yourself up when the bell rings.  
“Goodness me, you should get going!” Flitwick squeaks from across the room.  
You yell “thank you!” as you sprint out of the classroom, knocking over several candles as you go.  
It’s 5 minutes after when you make it to the dungeons, your hand shaking as you open the door. 

“Late, again.” A deep voice drifts from behind you and you feel your heart sink.  
“5 points from Ravenclaw. My, my this is turning into a rather bad week for your house.”  
Snape emerges from the shadows, mouth curved into a sneer  
“Sorry, sir, I was signing up for-“  
“I don’t need to hear your excuses.” He says coldly as he glides past you.  
You hold back a retort and stomp over to your desk, dropping your bag on the floor.  
He stands silently at the front of the class, arms crossed, waiting for you to get settled in.  
You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms, watching him through narrowed eyes.  
Snape waves his wand and the lights dim. The front of the classroom becomes illuminated by a soft green glow.  
“Today, you will be brewing the Essence of Insanity.” He says as he taps his wand on the board behind him.  
Elegant writing appears, listing ingredients.  
“This potion is incredibly dangerous, causing the drinker to become erratic and promoting irrational decision making that often ends in death.” His dark eyes scan the room.  
“You will have two hours, after which I will grade your potions. Prepare for this to be on the the test next week.”  
He waves his wand and the door to his stores open.  
“You may begin.” 

Snape watches you bend over your potion, a frustrated expression on your face. The dark circles under your eyes have become very pronounced. What’s keeping you up at night, he wonders. He still feels guilty, being so cold towards you. You did nothing to him, after all. Is he the reason for your sleepless nights?  
He watches as you measure powdered moonstone, accidentally knocking over your book as you lift your elbow. He stifles a laugh, admiring your clumsiness.  
You stir your potion, watching it intently, before getting up and walking over to the store room. 

“Try not to break everything.” You hear Snape’s voice drift toward you as he quietly walks up.  
You angrily set down the vial and turn around. You’re out of earshot from the rest of the class, and you decide to take advantage of this opportunity.  
“Did seeing me half naked really make you hate me this much?” You ask, losing it.  
Snapes eyebrows shoot up as his cheeks grow pink. He definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction.  
“I-keep your voice down!“ he says, furiously blinking, “You can’t-“  
“That’s the elephant in the room, isn’t it?” You continue in a whisper, feeling annoyed. “You’ve been nothing but horrible to me since.”  
Snape’s back stiffens.  
“Well?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip. Blood is pounding in your ears, but you stand your ground.  
He looks at you for a long moment, face expressionless.  
“Your potion is going to burn.” He says and walks away, leaving you feeling like an idiot. 

The rest of the class is just as painful. Your potion doesn’t burn, but it doesn’t turn the correct shade of green, either.  
Snape sweeps by, examining the potions, and doesn’t even look at yours, muttering “passable” as he glides by.  
You sink into your chair, feeling deflated.  
The bell rings and you rush to pack up your things, wanting to leave as fast as possible.  
“Grayson, see me after class.” Snape says, and you drop your quill, panicking. Blushing, you pick it up and keep your face down.  
Are you about to pay for what you said?  
You pick up your bag and slowly walk over to the front of the class. Snape is sitting down at his desk, head down, quill scratching over parchment. The noise of shuffling feet dies down as the classroom empties.  
“How are you feeling?” He asks, not looking up from the parchment.  
Your eyebrows shoot up as you’re taken aback at his question.  
“Good,” you say awkwardly. You hear the classroom door shut. It’s just you and him now.  
He puts his quill down and looks at your, jet black hair falling into his eyes, making your heart skip a beat.  
You do your best to maintain a straight face.  
“Anyone still causing trouble?” He asks as he leans back in his chair and crossing his arms.  
“No, sir.” You respond, flashing a small smile. The sound of footsteps has fully faded away, leaving silence in its place.  
You stand there, awkwardly, unsure of what to expect next. The lights are still dim from earlier, creating a strangely intimate atmosphere. He lets you sweat there for a moment.  
“I’m..sorry I’ve been harsh with you.” He says slowly, as though the words make him physically uncomfortable.  
You blink at him, holding your breath.  
“I aim to be a fair teacher but I must admit I have been faltering.”  
You shake your head, whispering “it’s ok, honestly, I’ve just been so tired-” before he stops you.  
“Don’t interrupt.” He says in a stern voice and you grin at him, air zipping your mouth shut.  
He shakes his head and sighs.  
“I hear you’re aiming to be an Auror after you leave Hogwarts.” He says with a smirk.  
You nod, fiddling with your bookbag strap. He looks ridiculously attractive in this light and you’re trying not to stare.  
Snape open his bottom desk drawer and pulls out a small black book, his long, pale fingers carefully setting it down in front of you.  
You take a step closer to the desk and lean forward, examining the blue gilded writing on the cover.  
Defense in the Face of Ultimate Peril - A Spell Guide by Dalius P. Glimbsby  
“Wow...” you say, realizing what this book is.  
It is usually found in the Restricted Section, as the majority of spells in it are incredibly tricky.  
It’s always been checked out when you wanted to read it, and you had basically given up.  
You grin at him, picking up the book and opening it to the Table of Contents.  
Over 200 pages full of intricate instructions and drawings. It feels like Christmas.  
“You really think this is a good idea, knowing how clumsy I am?” You joke as you flip through the book, eyes hungrily skimming the pages.  
He chuckles.  
“You can sit down, you know.”  
You plop into the chair across him and put the book in your lap, eagerly bending over it.  
“Page 117 has a spell that makes the attacker knock themselves out.”  
You look up with glee.  
“This is amazing,” you say, “when do you need it back?”  
He raises an eyebrow.  
“It is yours to keep. I figured you’d get the most out of this book, you seem to be more prepared than many other students.”  
You blush, as his eyes slowly move down your face.  
“These spells look incredibly complex.” You say, feeling slightly intimidated.  
You’re both silent for a long moment, after which Snape clears his throat  
“I can offer some guidance, if you need it.” He says, voice low and silky, “I dare say most of the spells are not forgiving, if cast improperly.”  
You feel excitement and panic flood your stomach. Private lessons?  
You silently kick the part of your head which is wondering if he’s just trying to be helpful or if there’s more to his intentions.  
“Auror testing is a month before school is out, it would be pretty badass to blow them out of the water with these.” You grin at him. “I may take you up on that.”  
He looks at you thoughtfully, as though he’s mulling your words over. His eyes flicker to the clock behind you.  
“We can work the details out another time. You should get to your next class.”  
You stand up and carefully put the book in your bag.  
“Thanks for....everything.” You say, taking your time to do the clasps of the bag.  
“Try not to test these on your peers.” He says, voice layered with amusement.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You respond, smiling from ear to ear.  
Snape flashes a small as you leave the classroom, feeling the best you’ve felt all week.

**Author's Note:**

> Planning to add lots to the story, hope you like ^_^


End file.
